


The State of Solitude

by TripleThreatTrio



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Legends Don't Burn sidestory, Non-dragonborn main character, Slice of Life, Werewolf, apocrypha, meanwhile back at the ranch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 09:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13924179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripleThreatTrio/pseuds/TripleThreatTrio
Summary: This ~Nifty Mod bonus story covers Driem's time in Solitude, happening simultaneously to chapters  30 (S3:E5) through 35 (S3:E10) of Legend's Don't Burn. This story will also make more sense in the context provided by Intertwining Fates.





	The State of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> [Legend's Don't Burn ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11077125/chapters/32048526)   
>  [Intertwining Fates](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12431181)

Driem stood with her arms crossed as she watched the city gates swing closed behind the two altmer and her sister, resisting the urge to slip out and follow. 

This whole situation didn’t quite sit right with her. She was interested, sure, and had even encouraged Kiir to go, but that was back when she’d assumed she was coming along as well.

Normally she wouldn’t have assumed vampires meant any more harm than werewolves did. Normally she wouldn’t have worried if Kiir, or any of her companions for that matter, went off to do something without her. Normally she’d have assumed, even after so long, that she could trust her sister. 

But normally she wasn’t abandoning a companion, to vampires, who were going to do gods-know-what in some shadowy unknown and undisclosed location, with her very  _ angry _ sister, who was also a vampire. And right after finding out that becoming a vampire was actually involuntary, involved a disease, and was currently at an epidemic level high. 

Driem drug her nails lightly over the skin on her arms in agitation. Now she had absolutely no idea what to do with herself. 

She briefly considered trying to find a way up onto the walls where she’d seen the occasional guard or pedestrian pass by, but quickly quashed the idea when she realised that train of thought was no better than slipping out the doors. Or significantly better considering the good vantage point, depending on how you look at it, but still not something she intended to do. 

The sun was setting and she was sure it wouldn’t be long before one of the guards side-eyeing her approached to shoo her off as the curfew went into effect. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, hoping to look bored or content rather than scheming. 

She supposed she could go find the inn that Fish had offered to pay for, but what was she to do once she got there? Sit and dwell?  She’d rather squat with the beggars, but… actually that was an interesting thing she hadn’t even realized she noticed. Did Solitude even have any beggars?

A snippet of conversation caught her attention as a couple rounded a bend. 

“... reduce his dosing to every _ two _ days! Can you believe the nerve!” 

The speaker was an elegant woman. Imperial, maybe. The man beside her, also probably an Imperial, curled his lip in disgust. “The shipments are always late and if I didn’t know any better I’d say that argonian is letting him buy his share before they even dock!” 

“I wouldn’t go quite so far.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Fish wouldn’t sell that much cure to anyone. He must be strong arming someone into buying extra for him. In fact I heard that…” 

The conversation faded as the couple drew farther away. 

_ Actually, that’s another thing _ . 

Setting aside that someone was apparently using more than their fair share, why was the cure so limited? Driem was  _ sure _ she’d seen an apothecary. She was no brewer, but Moira was, and even Driem knew the basic ingredients of a cure disease potion. Skeevers and Mudcrabs were plentiful nearby, but even if they weren’t, the city skies were full of hawks, and with the epidemic they should be drowning in vampire dust by now.

Maybe tomorrow she’d find the brewer and see why they weren’t making the cure  _ here _ .

The nearby guard caught Driem’s eye and she mimed a stretch, mimicking his actions as she pushed off the wall. Apparently she’d been loitering in the same spot for long enough. The guard in question nodded his head at her as she passed but didn’t bother to stop her. 

Around the corner and out of sight, she slipped into the deepening shadows. It wasn't ten minutes before she'd located a suitable uninhabited nook and allowed herself to be wrenched out of the mortal plane. 

The Black Book deposited her in a part of Apocrypha that was only loosely familiar, and the Prince of Knowledge wasn't there to greet her. It wasn't the first time that a book had led to the wrong place and caused her to escape the daedra’s notice, but it was rare and made her uneasy.

It seemed to upset the seekers, too. 

She drew one of her bows and grimaced. She made a mental note (for probably the hundredth time) to add another bow to her arsenal. One that  _ wasn't _ enchanted. 

This one, Souhlenni, had a powerful soul-trap enchantment. She didn't relish the idea of removing a Seeker from its chosen plane of Oblivion, but the alternative, her other bow, Áed, risked setting the books ablaze and destroying unimaginable knowledge.  _ When it comes down to it _ , she thought,  _ even the Seekers would probably approve of my choice _ . 

Sinking into a crouch, she darted as quickly as she dared down the halls of ancient tomes. Everything felt off and nothing was looking familiar. It made her wary of calling out. 

The first time this happened she had shouted for Hermaeus, and found herself facing down a Lurker. It drew the attention of Seekers as well, and had been a very close call.

Hermaeus was not omnipotent. He had his eyes trained on the Book locations, but even his sight couldn't stretch across the entirety of his plane of Oblivion. 

A low rumble sounded in the distance. Columns of books shuddered in response. 

_ That sounded like a shout _ .

For the first time, Driem wondered if she might not be the only one here in Apocrypha. The Seekers of Knowledge should have been a dead giveaway but they seemed so ancient, and somehow she just hadn't considered Hermaeus might be talking to more than one person right here right now.  _ Just how many Black Books  _ are _ there? _

The tension melted out of her as she slipped through an opening between the stacks of books and realized that she recognized the area beyond. As she reached the relative safety of the familiar space she looked back at the gap and frowned.  _ This wasn't like that the last time I was here. _

“Little, Bosmer.” 

She startled at the daedra’s voice behind her, whirling to face the churning mass of eyes that had bubbled up from the abyss behind her.

“Do you come, with more questions,” pause, “or have you brought me, the knowledge that I seek?”

“I have what you wanted. I’m certain now, I know who the dragonborn is.” She let the unspoken “but” hang between them while she tried to deliberate how to bring up her concern.  _ Best to just be straightforward _ , she decided. “Did you tell anyone else about the Horn?” 

His central eye blinked slowly. 

“It was stolen right out from under us. The timing was too perfect. It’s been hidden for ages and then someone else takes it right then? Minutes before us?” She crossed her arms and leaned back, forcing herself to stop talking and give him a chance to answer.

“No others,” pause, “have come seeking that knowledge, besides you, mortal.” The pause was somewhat longer than usual. “Now,” pause, “tell me. What have you learned, about the dragonborn?” 

Driem grit her teeth. “Her name is Kiir. She's an Altmer, from the Isles.” She left her own pause, but not long enough to let Hermaeus speak before continuing. “Perhaps no one else came to you about the horn, but that isn't what I asked.” 

The daedra's central eye slid closed and open again. “An Altmer?” Pause. “What interesting, times we are in. You would do well, to keep an eye on her.” From down the hall a Seeker floated directly toward her, a Black Book cradled in its arms. “Take this, and deliver it to the Child, and you will have earned, your boon.” 

Driem took the Book from the Seeker. It drifted off again.

“Hermaeus, did you tell anyone else about the horn?”

“No. It is only to you, that I have spoken, about the horn.” Closed. Open.

“But?”

Closed. Open.

“There are others here who might have overheard, aren't there?”

“Many fates intertwine, mortal. You are correct in that you are not, the only one, who walks these halls. There were many before you,” another Seeker in the distance drifted by as if to punctuate his statement, “and there will be many after. Who may have overheard, I cannot say.”

The shelves before them shifted suddenly, peeling back and exposing a single tome on a desk. It was an offering, even though she had yet to complete her task. Driem squinted at the daedra before stepping forward to open it. Carefully, she pried the pages apart. Her eyes could not comprehend the patterns that swam before her, but as the dusty pages flipped closed she understood just the same. _ Kest _ . 

“Give the dragonborn, the Black Book.”

“Yes.”

If Kiir didn’t come back, Driem was going to be in a lot of trouble.

* * *

 

Driem was lost in her thoughts when the book spilled her back into the alleyway from which she’d come - and almost directly into the laps of a guard and the vampire that had him pinned to the wall. 

She shouted out in surprise, drawing the attention of both. 

The vampire  _ hissed _ .

“Run!” the guard managed to croak.

Driem stumbled backwards, grabbing for one of her bows, but wasn’t anywhere near quick enough to prevent the fangs from sinking into her neck. She heard the snarl escape her lips in response without actually deciding to do it. Just as quickly as the vampire had grabbed ahold, she leapt back off, spitting and looking betrayed. 

Driem recovered quickly, ripping her bow, Áed, off of her back, drawing, and firing off three arrows rapidly.The fire caught and the woman screamed as she was reduced to ash. 

Driem watched on in abject horror. She'd reacted with very little thought. That wasn't someone who'd chosen to become a monster. That could have been someone's daughter or spouse... or sister. The resulting silence was deafening. 

“Arkay.” The guard’s voice was weak and even still sounded too loud. Driem had nearly forgotten he was there. Even in the dark he looked pale and gaunt. 

She sank to her knees beside him, pulling his hand away from his neck to inspect his wound, which was difficult as he struggled against her. 

“Hold still, let me see how bad it is.”

“Get away from me! Please, I have a family! I don’t have enough blood left for another one of you.” 

“I’m not a vampire. Hold still.” There really wasn’t much blood and from what she could tell the punctures were very small. 

“It’s pitch black! Please I beg of you, leave me be.” 

Still, she could smell the death on him. Creeping, killing, not quite the ashy stale smell of a vampire, but…  _ this is the scent of the infection _ . She pulled away to let him catch his breath. He immediately clamped his hand back to the marks on his neck. 

“The punctures are small. You’re not going to die, at least, not of blood loss. Do you have access to a cure potion?” 

“What do you care, demon?” His voice trembled. 

“I don’t. But you’re infected. I can smell it.” 

“Gods.” A sob caught itself in his throat. 

Driem looked around. She couldn’t see  _ anyone. _ No vampires, but no civilians or guards either. Solitude seemed so deserted the city might as well have been truly uninhabited. She couldn’t just leave him here in the dark. There were still hours to pass before daybreak. 

She knelt back down and grabbed him under the shoulder to heave him up. “Come on let’s get you home. Or wherever it is you should be right now.” 

The man made a pathetic sound, tried to push her off, and began to shake. She let him go just before he sagged over and spat up some bile. 

“Shit. Alright. Um, here.” Driem dug through her bag until she found some food.  _ Bread, cheese, here we go, this’ll work! _ She thrust the sweetroll into his hands. “I think you’re supposed to eat something sweet after blood loss. Maybe it doesn’t have to be sweet. I can’t remember, but you need to eat that.” 

In the distance, screeching and a long piercing scream echoed through the streets. 

The man sniffed at the roll before taking a tentative bite. His voice was softer now. “Why are you helping me?”

“I sort of saved you. I guess I feel responsible now.” 

“I didn’t know your kind could feel responsible.” 

Driem scoffed. “For the last time, I’m _ not  _ a vampire. And even if I was, they aren’t mindless beasts. Unless they’re starving, apparently.” 

The man grumbled something she couldn’t make out into the sweetroll. After a few bites he spoke up again. “What are you doing out here in the dark if you’re not a vampire?” 

“Judging by the lack of other guards around here I could ask you the same.” 

He cast a dirty look in her direction as he licked the icing off his fingers and began to push himself up off the ground. He looked considerably less wobbly than before. “Fine then, let's get going.”

The guard’s house turned out to be only a street away from the alleyway. Wherever he'd been going, he hadn't gotten very far. 

He paused as he unlocked the door and turned to face her. “Do you want to come inside?” 

She shook her head, though she wasn’t sure if he could see it. “No, thank you.”

He made to go inside, but hesitated again. “Am I really infected?” 

“Yes.”

“Maybe you should have left me to die. There's no cure potion left.”

“I’ll get you one.”

He barked a laugh, but his voice broke when he spoke again. “Good luck with that.” The door clicked shut behind him.

It didn’t take her long to find Angeline’s Aromatics after that. She spent the rest of the night on the roof, simply waiting for daybreak. 

She didn't see any other vampires, but she wasn't sure if it was because there weren't any, or because they were avoiding her. She wasn't exactly trying to be stealthy and if the guard was anything to go by, her confidence in the dark likely made her own condition obvious. 

The stars began to fade from the sky, summoning the earliest of the city’s residents. Driem wondered how long it would be before someone woke up to unlock the apothecary. 

As if on cue, the door below clicked and a young woman exited outside. She lit a small lantern beside the door and stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the waking city. When she turned, however, her eyes landed on Driem, still sitting atop the gutters. “Oi!”

Driem grinned, “Ready for customers, Ma’am?”

“Customer’s don’t typically sit on the roof.” The woman paused. “Thieves do.”

Driem tilted her head, considering. “I don’t expect thieves wait around to let themselves be caught, though.”

“I don’t think any thief plans to get caught.” The woman sighed and waved her hand over her shoulder. “If you’re a customer, just come on down already. You’re making me nervous up there.”

Driem slid from the roof, rolling as she landed. “You got it!” She followed the woman inside. “Are you Angeline?” 

“Yes, that’d be me.”

“Aromatics, huh? Is this the city’s only apothecary?”

Angeline hummed in affirment. “I used to only sell perfumes, but with the war and all, potions are a little more important nowadays.”

Driem nodded. “And the vampire thing, too. I was kind of hoping to find out why the cure wasn’t being made  _ here,  _ to see if maybe there was some way I could help.”

“Ah,” Angeline sighed. “The cure. The illusive cure. I’d love to have discovered the cure, but that’s just not something I can do. I’m a herbalist by trade, not an alchemist. I’m blessed my niece knew a few potions herself or I’d have been out of business years ago.”

“ _ Discovered  _ the cure? It isn’t just a cure disease potion? That’s what they were calling it at the docks, and that’s a pretty common potion.” 

Angeline had moved so her back was leaned up against the counter. She scoffed. “Those haven’t worked for a while. The infection or disease or whatever it  _ actually  _ is has become resistant to regular cure disease potions. They’re all but useless.”

Driem frowned. “That’s… worrying. Is Fish selling useless potion, then?” 

“No, no, It’s...” Angeline sighed. “Give me a second.” She turned and wandered back behind her counter and through a door along the back wall of the shop. She was gone a few minutes, with soft conversation coming from that room, when she returned with another woman - a dunmer. “Like I said, I’m not an alchemist, but I do know someone who is. Vivyne, this is... I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Driem.” She turned to the dunmer. “I’m Driem.”

The dunmer, Vivyne, extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. I apologize for my state of dischelvement,  _ someone _ didn’t warn me I’d be having guests this early.”

Driem chuckled. “Well, I doubt she knew to expect me. I spent half the night on your roof. I wanted to try and help with this vampire… thing, but it seems a lot more complicated than I expected.”

“You’re telling me,” Vivyne replied. She looked over her shoulder, and then to Angeline. “Is there any coffee made?”

“Mhm, I put a pot on just after I woke up.” Angeline turned to Driem. “Would you like a cup, too?”

“No, thank you.” Driem paused to consider for a moment. “I’d take tea, if you have it though.”

“You’re asking if there’s tea? In an herbalist's shop?” Vivyne laughed. “Come on, we’ll talk in the kitchen.”

Driem flushed, embarrassed, and followed the women into the kitchen, taking a seat across from Vivyne at the table in the far corner. 

Angeline set a mug of coffee in front of Vivyne, then turned to Driem. “I’ll have your tea in a just a minute.”

“Thank you.” Driem nodded, then turned back to the dunmer. 

Vivyne held the mug up to her lips and took a small sip. “So, what do you know about this whole vampire thing?”

“Not much,” Driem admitted. “I’ve heard that it’s mutated, and that cure disease stopped working. But, I gather that somebody has found  _ something  _ that works since Fish is selling it at the docks. I was originally going to offer to help get the recipe or gather the ingredients when I thought it was just Cure Disease, but I don’t know anything about this new potion.” 

“It’s not really a new potion, so to speak. Just a modified version of the cure disease. The trouble is, this new ingredient that makes it effective is near impossible to get now. There are replacements, but they come all the way from Solstheim. Which, as you can imagine, is expensive.” Vivyne took another sip of her coffee. “The stuff Fish is selling now is the only thing we can get our hands on at the moment.”

Driem leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide. “Modified? What ingredients? I know most of them are related to curing disease in their own right as it is, I can’t image what you’d swap out, or why.” 

Vivyne’s eyebrows raised. “You’re an alchemist?”

“Not quite.” She winced. “My wife is, though. I’ve picked up more than I ever cared to, to be honest with you.”

“Fair enough,” Vivyne chuckled, placing her cup down and leaning back in her chair. “See, the vampire disease is quick. In order to cure it, the potion needs a slowing effect so that the curing portions can do their job. Unfortunately, most ingredients that can do that are  _ also _ fortifying ingredients, which make the curing parts ineffective. That leaves us with three options; Deathbell, Trama Root, and Burnt Spriggan Wood. Deathbell is the only one that grows around here.”

“Oh. That explains the hawks, too, then. I was wondering how there could still be so many around during a crisis like this. They’d be useless, even though their feathers are usually the prime ingredient. Why can’t you use the deathbell?”

Angeline returned with a steaming mug just then, handing it to Driem. “You see why I asked her to come talk to you.”

Driem took a sip and nodded her approval. “Thanks.”

Vivyne laughed. “You know most of this stuff, Angie.”

“Yeah, right.” Angeline rolled her eyes. She leaned so she could look through the archway back out to the front of the shop. “I’m going to go wake up Vivienne, get the shop ready.”

“That’s fine,” Vivyne replied. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Driem felt her eyebrows knit together as she looked between the retreating Angeline and Vivyne before her. “There are two Vivienne's here?” 

“Angeline’s niece. We didn’t plan it, I promise.” Vivyne finished off her coffee mug and slid it to the center of the table. “Now, what was your question?”

Driem stared blankly for a moment before she remembered what exactly had been said before Angeline had come in with the tea. “Oh! Right, the deathbell! If it grows nearby and fits the recipe, why aren’t we using it?” 

Vivyne sighed, brushing back her hair. “Vampires have completely overrun the swamp. They’re there, it’s just we can’t  _ get _ to them. It’s almost like a sick joke. Funny, even, if so many people weren’t dying.”

Driem smiled widely, even knowing it might look unsettling. She couldn’t help it. “In that case, maybe I actually can help you. If I can bring you deathbell, you can make the cure? Do you need the flowers or the leaves?” 

“You can, can you?” Vivyne say up straighter now. “The potion requires the flowers, but how are you planning on getting them? You can’t be planning to just run in there, swords flaming?”

Driem shook her head. “Kind of, but not exactly.” She took a deep drink from her mug. “I’ve got… a  _ condition _ of my own - by choice, and entirely controlled - but it makes me undesirable as a food source, and immune to the disease. I’m strong, and fast, and quiet. And not incapable in a fight. I  _ can _ get you some deathbell.”

“Mmm, I’m assuming by your vagueness it’s not a condition you’d like to share?”

Driem dipped her head from side to side noncommittally. “I’m not opposed to sharing, really, but not everyone is willing to trust me once they hear what it is. It might be safer to just accept me at my word.” 

“I’ve heard some things in my time. Try me.”

“Werewolf.” She took another sip of her tea. 

“Oh.” Vivyne looked startled, but then started to laugh. “Well, damn. I was thinking I could reverse engineer some kind of vaccine, but I guess that’s not going to happen, is it?”

“No.” Driem barked a laugh. “I would definitely not recommend infecting the town with lycanthropy. Most wouldn’t be able to handle it, and feral wolves aren’t really any better than feral vampires.”

Vivyne shook her head. “No, I believe you.” She leaned forward. “But, either way, if you can get those Deathbells that would be absolutely fantastic.”

She gulped the last of her tea and slid the mug across the table. “Point me to this swamp and I’ll be back by nightfall.”

“Absolutely,” Vivyne replied, standing from her chair. “And, actually, if you happen to see any young Deathbell sprouts, bring those back, too. I’d like to start a garden to keep this from happening again.”

“I,” Driem hesitated, “I’m not actually sure what deathbell sprouts look like. I only know the plant by its flowers. I could bring you back a plant or two, roots and all instead?” 

Vivyne nodded. “That’d be perfect.”

Driem followed Vivyne outside the city and thanked her as they parted ways. The sun had already risen and was shining bright. Any wonder of how the vampires could remain a threat even at midday were immediately dispelled as she drew closer to the swamp in question. The entire area was coated in a thick fog and even if it hadn’t been, what trees she could see above had long, draping branches, casting dark shadows over the swampland below the canopy. 

She sniffed the air and weighed her options. 

She’d be stealthier as herself, but it would be  _ substantially _ easier to dig up the plants with claws. It’d be easier to pack up and  _ carry _ the plants as herself, but easier to fight off surprise attackers as her wolf. 

She sniffed the air again. She didn’t particularly want to leave her things unattended if there were people about, even if they were vampires. As the scent of stale dust registered, though, she realized stealth likely wouldn’t matter - they could probably smell her just as well as she could smell them.  _ Wolf, then _ . She stepped behind the nearest tree on the outskirts and shivered at the touch of the cold, damp air as she shed her armor and clothes. 

She shook off the cold and breathed deep, reaching for that other presence always in the back of her mind. It stirred. 

Her senses cleared. Edges become sharp as both light and shadows became deeper. Muted scents leapt to the forefront of her consciousness. Sounds crept out from the background thrum. It was like a weight had been lifted. Her skin prickled. 

She suppressed a groan as her joints stretched and cracked. Her skin burned. It grew taught, stretching past the point it should have ripped open. Her fur felt like dozens of little knives had burst out, but in a good way. The world always looked a little strange from her new height. 

The wolf was pleased. She shook out the last of her tension and sniffed deep. There were vampires around, but none particularly close. 

She was tempted to go for a run just for the freedom of it, but that was mostly the wolf’s desire and she had a job to be doing. She waded into the swamp. 

The muck was deep and sucked at her paws. It didn’t particularly hinder her, powerful as she was, but the splashing and squelching was quite a bit less stealthy than she'd have liked. 

The fog, on the other hand, did make things particularly difficult. She zigzagged through the marshland, unable to see more than a couple feet in front of her. 

She found herself following the eerie song of a Nirnroot and ended up in an area chock full of fungal pods. She had to resist the urge to gather them for Moira, but she made a mental note that they were plentiful here.

A little to her left, something deep purple caught her eye. Drawing closer, she could see it was indeed what she was after.  _ Deathbell _ . She dug her claws into the peaty soil, feeling out for the roots. 

The plant was only half freed from the damp ground when she realized she was smelling ash. She looked up.

A tall, gaunt, redguard vampire was scowling at her. “None of us particularly wants to fight you, beast, but we can't let you take that.” 

Driem felt her lips draw back to expose her teeth. She did nothing to rein in the wolf’s instinctual reaction. She growled low in her throat and shifted just slightly into a stance protective of the partially excavated plant. 

The vampire smirked. “So you  _ do _ understand me.” His face fell into something more serious. “Then I'm sure you also understand why we  _ really _ can't have you taking that.” 

Actually Driem didn't understand. Why was this vampire talking to her? She'd expected feral vampires out here, just using the swamp as protection from the sun, or something. Wouldn't her curing people just mean less competition for him? 

She inhaled and snorted. There were at least three other vampires she could smell somewhere in the fog. Her ears swiveled towards a light splash.  _ Well, there's one of them _ . 

“We aren't afraid of you,” the redguard continued. “Just because we’d rather avoid a fight...” He left the end of his statement hang. 

Driem planted her feet and snarled. 

“Very well.”

The lunge she’d expected didn’t come. Rather, a shock of sharp pain yanked her sideways. She yelped and leapt backwards, glaring, affronted, at the feathered end of an arrow protruding from her upper arm.  _ Of course _ .  _ Vampires or not, they’re still men.  _ She didn't like how things relating to vampires were catching her off guard at every turn.

She delayed long enough for another arrow to fly, this one narrowly missing her face. She dug her paws into the muck and launched herself in the direction it had come from. The vampire was a woman, and clearly hadn’t expected to be targeted. She shouted out in surprise, but didn’t have time to scream. Driem sank her teeth into her throat and pulled. 

Things after that began to move very quickly. 

It was a lot harder to fight when not on solid ground than she’d realized. 

The other vampires were on her. She felt a sword slice across her back. Something on her right hissed. She swung out at random. Her claws caught someone. They screamed. 

There were more than three other vampires. 

Driem tried to charge away from the throng. Her legs slipped in the muck and she went down directly on top of another one. She heard something snap and the body beneath her fell apart. Something lunged after her. 

She rolled off the ashy remains. Her back was in the mud. The slice on her back burned as the damp earth ground into it. She kicked out viciously, catching at least two of her attackers and sending them flying. It was enough. She lurched back to her feet. 

A short distance ahead she found the trunk of a tree planted firmly in more solid ground. She braced herself. A vampire that had been following her materialized from the fog. Driem launched herself off the tree. The vampire plunged a dagger into the right side of her chest. She raked her claws across his entire midsection, and used his body as a springboard into the next two vampires behind him. 

She tore one’s throat out. 

The other managed to swing out and smash her shoulder with a war hammer. She yowled. It was the redguard. She felt a sick pleasure at the fear in his face. She let the wolf snarl in victory as she ripped into his torso, his blood immediately turning black and flaking away. 

Everything was still. 

Driem pulled herself onto her hind paws and rolled her shoulder. It protested and threatened to cramp in several places, but seemed to move correctly.  _ Not broken, I think. At least there’s that.  _ He must not have had enough leverage. 

Her claws closed around the dagger in her chest. She breathed deep and blew out as she pulled. She took several more deep breaths as the agony abated and settled into something duller.  _ Also lucky that didn’t puncture a lung _ . 

The arrow still stuck out of her left arm, and with her right shoulder in the state it was, she knew she wouldn’t even be able to attempt removing that one on her own. She had no idea how bad the gash on her back might be. The rest of her scrapes and bruises felt superficial. 

Sniffing, she decided there were no more vampires in the immediate vicinity. 

She followed the hum of the Nirnroot back to the area full of fungal pods, and retraced her steps. The plant had only six flowers on it, but for now it would have to do. She finished pulling the deathbell out of the muck and gingerly placed in her own jaws. 

She picked a direction and trudged as straight a path as she was able. Luck was, again, on her side as she came out of the swamp only yards away from where she’d left her clothing. Exhausted, the wolf gratefully retreated to rest and recover. 

Turning back into a mer felt right, like coming down from a high, but the muting of her senses was as disorienting and uncomfortable as ever. 

She was filthy and bemoaned the fact that she couldn’t just waltz through solitude naked. She forced herself to the edge of the lake and rubbed off what mud she could into the water. There was quite a bit of blood too, she noted. Not only from the dagger wound, but also on her legs - probably from the stinging gash on her back. 

She redressed but didn’t don all of her armor. She shoved what she could into her bag, and carried the deathbell by hand. 

It was already nearing sundown when she trudged back into Solitude and walked into Angeline’s. 

Vivyne, who’d been behind the corner, looked up as Driem entered. Her eyes danced over Driem’s body and landed on the arrow still sticking out from her shoulder. “Gods, are you alright?”

Driem smiled, tiredly. “For the most part. I wouldn’t be opposed to help getting this out, though.”

“Of course, come here,” Vivyne said, moving around the counter towards a few benches nestled against the wall. She patted one with her hand. “Sit.”

“I’m sorry I only brought you one plant. I’ll go back out tomorrow,” Driem huffed as she sat heavily on the bench. 

Vivyne shook her head, beginning to inspect the wound. “No, one is fine. More than enough. Let’s just focus on this first.” She was quiet a moment. “This thing is in here deep.”

“I know. Just give it a good yank. We, werewolves I mean, heal pretty fast. So the tissue is probably already healing around it.” 

“I can get you a numbing salve if you-”

“No, it’s fine, just get it out.”

Vivyne sighed. “If you say so.” She wrapped her hands around the arrow and pressed her fingers around the wound, trying her best to make the hole wide enough for the tip to slip out without too much trouble. “You ready?”

“No. Do it.”

Without a second’s hesitation, Vivyne pulled back, yanking the arrow from Driem’s shoulder.

Driem surged up from the bench, snarling. “SHIT. Fuckshit.  _ Auri-El’s glowing ballsack! _ ” She heaved. 

Vivyne held up the arrow, chuckling. “‘Auri-El’s glowing ballsack’. I’ve heard a lot of things in my time, but never that one. Where’d you pick that up?”

Driem wheezed. “Well, ‘ballsack’ is unusually quick on my tongue, but I guess I picked Auri-El up from a friend. Can’t say that particular phrase has passed my lips before either.” She sat back down, shaking a little. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Nah, it’s my job. And thank you again for getting the flowers.” Vivyne placed the arrow on the counter. “We might actually be able to make some headway.”

“How long will it take to brew? I’ve helped Moira with ingredients before, but she always does the hard part.”

“Well, the flowers have to boil for a while - the Deathbell is notoriously ‘clingy’ with its properties. Gotta force them out. Then the actual brewing takes about an hour, but then it has to sit overnight. Maybe a day or two?”

Driem nodded. “Okay. I killed some vampires out there today. I don’t know how many were actually there, but it should be easier for me to get more tomorrow.”

“Fantastic. If we can get a backlog of them, we’ll be set when the crowds start to pour in.”

Driem’s eyes narrowed slightly. “About that. I’ve heard things,” she gestured towards the door, “about people buying too much off the docks, or getting people to buy it for them. Taking it just as a  _ preventative _ .”

“I know,” Vivyne groaned. “And it absolutely doesn’t work that way, but fear makes people stupid. It isn't as if we can  _ keep _ those people from buying it. People can get nasty, and we’ve no way of knowing for sure who’s infected anyway.”

“I can smell it, actually. The disease. If you need a bouncer or something. I don’t know how long I can stay and help, or how I’ll explain it, but I can do the job for a while, probably.”

“That’d be great, actually,” Vivyne replied. She leaned onto the counter. “I feel I should be paying you or something, with all the help you’re giving us.”

Driem shrugged. “If there’s somewhere I can clean up and sleep, that’d be more than enough.” 

“You got it,” Vivyne replied, smiling. She pointed to a door on the back wall. “It’s a little small, but the bedroom back there is open.”

“Thank you.”

Vivyne nodded, gathering up the deathbell Driem had laid out on the counter. “I should get these boiling as soon as possible. You think you could help me carry some water back to the kitchen?”

Driem rolled her hammered shoulder again, testing it. It was already feeling much better. “Sure thing.”

* * *

 

That night Driem slept to speed the healing process. Despite having literally grown up needing sleep, it was strange waking up now, as if time had simply skipped ahead without her. It was never accompanied by the feeling of being rested; it felt empty. 

She groaned and stretched. Her shoulder was purpled but felt only slightly tender. The punctures on her arm and chest had closed nicely and were only barely scabbed over. She ran her fingers over her back. The scabbing there was more prominent. She winced, not having realized it was that bad. All in all though, she was nearly back to normal. 

She was quiet as she crawled out of bed, ready to set right back out to the swamp. It was still dark outside and she was surprised to see Angeline already up and about. 

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” 

“Headed back out already?”

Driem nodded. “I really did mean to bring you more, yesterday.” 

“You brought us more than we’d have dared hope for as it is. Stay safe out there, okay?”

Driem nodded. 

She was at least slightly more prepared this time.

She didn’t bother with armor or weapons; she left practically everything at the apothecary. She stripped her minimal clothing only a little way past the walls of Solitude and let her wolf have the run it’d been craving. After yesterday, it deserved it. 

Soon enough she came to the swamp. This time she waded into the lake and swam around to see if there was any area around the swamp with more solid ground than the part she’d waded into the day before. It wasn’t long before she came across a small patch of raised land that was pretty much what she was looking for. She swam to the edge and hauled herself up, shaking off the excess water. 

The fog wasn’t very thick along the border, so Driem followed the sturdier land deeper in, senses alert and paws quiet. She was certain she hadn’t taken out all of the vampires the day before, and was intent on using the fog against them. 

A little way in she found a suitable tree with a thick trunk, heavily obscured by the fog. She rubbed her face against it several times, scooped up some muck, and then began to climb. She settled easily into the branches to wait. Already she could smell ashy death drawing near. 

Driem threw a palmful of the muck at the ground, satisfied with the noisy splat. 

The first vampire to show herself stepped out from behind Driem’s tree, gesturing to two others that almost immediately came into view. A look of confusion crossed the lead vampire’s face as she leaned into the tree and looked around for the source of the sound. Driem crept down until she was close enough to strike, grabbing the vampire’s shoulder in her jaws and shaking savagely. 

The vampire let out a startled hiss but had absolutely no time to react. Her neck broke and Driem threw her towards the water. The other two came running back but likewise weren’t able to react fast enough when Driem launched herself from the tree, directly into them. 

Ignoring the khajiit with a bow, Driem raked her claws down the front of the man with the axe. He went down and she tore out his throat, too, for good measure. She shoved him towards the water. 

When she turned back around, the khajiit was pulling back the string of his bow. Driem lunged directly toward it. She snapped her jaws on the wooden handle, breaking the weapon in two and severing the vampire’s fingers in one bite. He screeched and turned to flee. Driem slammed her paw down, trapping his tail against the earth. He turned to face her, his ears laid back in fear. She swung out hard with her other arm. His neck snapped. She threw him into the water as his fur turned black and fell away. 

The sounds of hurried splashing were drawing close, even more vampires drawn by the sounds of fighting. She resisted the urge to snarl. She was playing this safer than yesterday. Instead she hurriedly pulled herself back into her perch. They could follow her scent and sounds, but up a tree was the last place  _ anyone  _ would expect to find a wolf. 

Another group of three came running past, not even stopping to check the area. Driem leapt down on the third as he passed. She clamped her jaws around his head and squeezed. He had no time to cry out. She drug him back up the tree with her. She was trying to prevent ash buildup around her hiding place, but likely didn’t have time to throw him in the water without attracting his companions back too quickly. 

“Bengt?” The owner of the voice stepped close enough for her to see. 

“Shh, that werewolf is nearby,” the other whispered, sniffing. 

Driem pressed herself closer to the tree and breathed as slowly as she could. Yet another triplet of vampires came close enough to see. The other two went to meet them and they spoke quietly. 

The two, Bengt’s companions, kept looking around worriedly. Driem couldn’t hear or smell any others nearby. She slowly rose, ready to leap from the tree. One of the others locked eyes with her. 

“Lambi!” he screamed. 

The battle was a whirlwind, but over quickly. She managed not to sustain any serious injuries this time. Most of these vampires didn’t seem to know how to fight. 

“Well, well, well.” 

Driem’s head shot up and she stared into the fog. The voice had come from back by the tree. 

“I know you’re out there wolf. You killed my best fighters yesterday. How many of my scouts have you taken out today?”

_ This must be Lambi _ , Driem thought. She slunk low to the ground and sniffed carefully. She only smelled the one vampire, by her tree. 

“You want the cure so badly? Take it. I’ll even lead you to it, if you leave this swamp and the vampires here  _ alone _ .” There was a pause. “You’ll have to come out where I can see you, though.”

Cautious and ready to bolt if an arrow was drawn, Driem crept forward. Lambi was a bosmer. She had her hands at her belt, ready to draw a dagger, but relaxed as she laid eyes on Driem’s defensive posture. Lambi nodded, and gestured that Driem follow her deeper into the swamp, walking half backwards to keep her eye on Driem. She did not remove her hand from the hilt of her knife. Reluctantly, Driem followed. 

There was always the possibility of an ambush, but even as they progressed deeper, Driem didn’t smell any other vampires. They came quickly into a clearing absolutely full of deathbell. Driem’s suspicion must have shown on her face. 

“I couldn’t care less if you stop the infection in Solitude. The additions to my ranks were useful, but even I can admit it’s getting out of hand. I’d hoped to take on the High Bloods, but these city  people are weak.” 

As Lambi monologed, Driem began to dig up the flowering plants, never putting her back to the vampire. 

“I can’t promise that any newbloods won’t take refuge here. But what remains of my coven will have moved on in the next week or so. After your packmate killed Lars it would be foolish of me to think we should challenge you,” she continued. 

Driem had gathered seven plants and it barely put a dent in the deathbell around the clearing. She wondered if she’d be able to find her way out of here, and if it would even be safe to try. 

“You’re a bosmer, aren’t you?”

Driem looked up sharply, startled. 

“There was ash _ in _ the tree. Men and other mer aren’t so quick to climb. And I’m not sure I’ve seen a beast so quiet and careful. I suppose you could have been Khajiiti. Either way, you’re quite a bit more cautious than the one that was here yesterday.” 

Driem tilted her head, questioning. If Lambi believed she was part of a pack, all the better. 

“Are you done gathering then?” 

Driem sniffed the air. Only Lambi. She nodded. 

Lambi led her to the edge of the swamp, again without incident. “Don’t come back soon. We need time to clear out.” The vampire turned her back and disappeared in the fog. 

Driem shivered. She wasn’t sure she should have let the woman go. She shook her head and raced back towards Solitude. 

Vivyne was ecstatic. Seven plants and no arrows to rip out were both more than she’d expected. Driem told her and Angeline about Lambi’s promise. Angeline promised to try and find a way of informing the guards so they could sweep the swamp for stragglers, without giving away how she knew. 

Two days later the first of the cure was brewed. 

Vivyne spoke with Fish, who directed his client base to Angeline’s Aromatics, and within hours they were swamped. 

Driem was glad that her werewolf strength influenced her regular strength even when the wolf was sleeping. It took a couple days to get the crowds to respect her authority. 

It wasn’t until about three days in that someone thought to question how she could tell who was sick, rather than just question her authority. 

“I said no. It does not work as a preventative, and we only have enough for the sick.” She was firm. 

The woman was furious. “How do you know my  _ son _ isn’t sick!” 

“Because I know! Now back up so other people can come forward!”

“It’s because we’re Nords!” a man, her husband, Driem thought, grumbled. 

Taking her cue from the man, the woman thrust her finger into Driem’s face. “That’s racist! You can’t turn us away! We’re paying customers!”

Driem scowled and narrowed her eyes. “I  _ can _ and I  _ am. _ Get lost.”

“I’m calling the guard!” The woman cried before turning on a heel and storming off.

As Driem rolled her eyes at the retreating back, a tall woman forced her way through the crowd. Driem’s first thought was about how rude it was for the woman to not simply wait her turn. Her second thought was that this woman was very attractive. Her third was the realization that the woman was  _ Kiir _ .

Kiir waved at Driem.

“Whoa, Kiir! You’re back! And your  _ hair! _ ” She was sure her face was flaming. She couldn’t have even  _ imagined _ Kiir with short hair before seeing it, but damn if she didn’t pull it off. 

“Trying out something new,” Kiir laughed. “What are you doing?” 

The crowd was clearly agitated. “Just a little side work. Go on inside, I’ll meet you in there.” Driem figured it’d be best to speak more privately. 

“Oh sure, let another elf inside!” Someone shouted. 

Kiir, and Fish, who Driem only belatedly noticed, slipped through the doors and a general grumble went through the crowd. 

“She was with Fish-In-The-Water,” was all she said by way of explanation. 

Another couple sick customers were allowed in, and the vast majority refused to leave despite being turned away, many for the second day in a row. 

It came as a shock when the crowd seemed to suddenly melt away, many actively fleeing. 

It was the guard, and he was a vampire. 

_ Oh no. _ She had completely forgotten. 

The man was an angry red, blistered and giving off a terribly powerful ashy scent. He locked eyes with her and she could  _ see  _ the understanding. He might not have recognized her, but he could smell what she was and he had to have known. If the bosmer he’d met the other night wasn’t a vampire, it would make sense that she was a werewolf. 

“I’m so sorry,” she choked.

“It hardly matters now.” He sounded angry and broken, “I’ve fed off my daughter. I need to get her the cure, immediately!” He made to shove past her. 

“You can’t, I’ll go in and get it for you but you can’t go inside.”

“Yes because I’m sure I can trust you to fetch me the cure!” He spat.

She flinched back. He pounded on the door. 

“You can’t!” 

Another pound and the door fell open. 

“Give me the cure!” he screamed.

Driem raced after him, grabbing him around his midsection and trying to drag him back outside.

“Get off of me, beast!”

She pulled harder.

“Let go of him, Driem.” Vivyne was poised to cast.

Without thinking, Driem did as she was asked and stepped away. Barely a fraction of a second past before Vivyne blasted him with a bolt of sizzling electricity. He convulsed once, and fell face down on the floor.

“He was too far gone to save,” Vivyne said. Driem was a little hurt by how cold she sounded. 

“He didn’t want it for himself.” Driem admitted quietly. She looked down at the blackening body, shoulders slumped. “I promised to find him a cure and I completely forgot. He wanted this cure for his daughter.”

Vivyne looked only a touch concerned and not at all remorseful. Kiir, Driem noticed, seemed to better understand. 

She would make sure his daughter got the cure. She knelt down and grabbed the guard’s legs to drag him outside. He deserved at least the dignity of not having to be swept up off of the apothecary floor. 

Only minutes earlier Driem had been loathe to leave this place even though Kiir had returned. She watched the dust catch in the wind.  _ How could I have forgotten? _

Maybe it was best for a wanderer to just keep moving. 

She found she would be glad to be leaving Solutide behind.


End file.
